“You shall have plenty more,” said Andrew, lifting the switch to strike afresh, but the elder boys fell upon him.
“Shut up, will you,” they cried, “it’s beastly mean to hit such a little chap. Trying to kick him now, are you? You’d better.” And without more ado the cousins, aided by Hubert, who had returned, panting, but free, brought Andrew to the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Now we’ll see if a little beating won’t make him tender,” said Jack, wrenching the stick from Andrew.
So it fell out that the rod which he had prepared for another’s back, fell upon Andrew’s own in no very gentle strokes.
“There, I’ll be bound that’s the best licking you’ve ever had in your life,” cried Jack, with genuine satisfaction. “Shouldn’t be surprised if it made a man of you, old chap,” he added, breaking the stick in two pieces and flinging the fragments high up into a tree.
Too mortified to howl, and too cowardly to retaliate, Andrew skulked off in sullen silence.
Gaston was nowhere to be seen. Once freed from his tormentors’ clutches he had flown out of sight and sound of the copse.
“He went so fast, I believe he flew,” said Hubert, who, if the truth must be told, had been so absorbed in watching Andrew’s chastisement, that he had had no attention to spare for anything else.
CHAPTER X.
“YOU’VE NEVER BEEN QUARRELLING.”
“DEAR, dear Miss Faith, whatever has been happening?” enquired Ruth, anxiously. She had come to meet the little party as they returned in answer to the tea-bell’s summons.